An Impossible Truth
by terrified
Summary: A one-shot. Sherlock returns to Baker Street after a difficult case and is met with a rather startling truth.


_**A/N:** __I've done it again. I've had a long day with language class and overtime work but instead of sleeping once I was done, I'm churning out a one-shot. Obviously, I can't make sense of my own Sherlolly-fuelled sentiment. Anyway, have some quirky little Sherlolly fluff. :) x_

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**An Impossible Truth**

It was late and he was hungry. Sherlock would have never admitted the fact that right now, a hot dinner and a week-long nap were the very things he needed. If not for the fact that he _had_ solved the case, he would have returned to Baker Street a very disgruntled man.

The strange thing was that above his hunger, above his disdain for the cold weather, above the ache in his eyes from lack of sleep, above all of this - he felt the hollowest from one thing alone. Sherlock Holmes needed Molly Hooper. He missed her. Though he detested the word, he absolutely and utterly missed her. He wanted her company, to hear her voice, and to be near her.

The week had been frantic - or had it been weeks? Sherlock could barely remember the last time he spoke to her or saw her. How strange that his craving for her should be so strong. Was it always like this?

The detective trudged up the stairs to his flat and practically dragged his feet across his living room. He shrugged his coat off, and decided to skip dinner. Sleep was far more paramount at this point. Besides, it would also stave off the fact that Molly was not around.

Sherlock stumbled in the dark of the Baker Street corridor and into his room - a rare thing for a man with such keen senses. However, adrenalin had worn off, and his post-case 'human-ness' had sunk in. His head was heavy, his hands were cold, his heart was a little sad and his eyes were ready to shut.

He sat down on his usual side of the bed, ridding himself of his shoes and socks. His lean fingers reached to undo a few buttons of his shirt as he moved to finally sink into bed. A shower would have been nice but his body simply would not move. Besides, the faster he fell asleep, the sooner he could do something about the lack of Molly.

The bed was terribly comfortable and the detective sighed gratefully as he felt his body sink into the mattress. He then urned to his side, but only to have his hand bump against something in his bed.

"Oh, it's you." came a voice.

The 'something-in-his-bed' turned. There was a certain feeling of deja-vu about this but he was not sure. The room was suddenly brightened when the bedside lamp on the other side of the bed was turned on.

"Did you solve it?" said the same voice from before.

Sherlock Holmes' tired eyes sprung back into clarity when he sat up and saw that Molly Hooper, the very woman he had been thinking about, was lying in his bed. At first, he frowned, then he shook his head, scoffing at himself, before his face softened into a gentle smile.

"You'd forgotten again, hadn't you?" she whispered with a smile before he lowered his face to kiss her mouth.  
"I hope you're not…insulted." he said, hanging his head slightly.  
"Why would I be?" she said with a smirk, "It's not like I'm important or anything…"  
"Don't you ever say that, Molly Hooper…" he interrupted.  
"I know why you forget," she said with a laugh, placing a comforting kiss on his wrist, "And it's all right."  
"I honestly can't believe it sometimes," he said, stroking her hand.  
"That you married me?"  
"No…that _you_ married _me." _he said, his lip twitching slightly. "It's like they say…"  
"What _do_ they say?" she asked, her eyes amused and shining at him.  
"That it's…too good to be true," he muttered. He did not like such hyperbolic expressions of sentiment.

Molly saw him frown, obviously unhappy with what he had just uttered and chuckled in amusement. He turned to stare at her, before slowly breaking into soft laughter of his own. Molly gestured for him to lie back down again. Sherlock automatically lay down, reaching to hold Molly tightly to him.

"So you really do forget that I'm your wife…because it's too good to be true?" Molly asked, curling up comfortably against him.  
"Hmm. Yes." he murmured, kissing her lightly on the back of her head "You know me. Sentiment evades."  
"Then you'll need a bit of logic to get round it," she answered, turning around to face him.

Molly smiled at Sherlock before their faces naturally moved in for a kiss. His lips found solace in hers and his whole being finally found rest now that he rested beside hers. No wonder he had missed her. And so strongly too. She had a place within him now, which is why without her, he found himself hollow.

"Too good to be true," he muttered frustratedly against her mouth.

Molly laughed and kissed him quickly again while holding his face firmly between her hands.

"Once you rule out the impossible…" she began, staring deeply into his eyes.  
"Whatever remains, however improbable…" he continued, reaching to touch her hands on his face.  
"Must be true," she whispered, before drawing his face to hers once more.

It had been a long, gruelling night, but Sherlock was soon blissfully reminded of a most delightful reality. However improbable it may have seemed, he _had _gained the love of Molly Hooper. An impossible truth, no doubt, but a truth nonetheless.

**END**


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